Singularity
by chaosattractor
Summary: My take on Mello's standoff with the Japanese police in the Mafia headquarters. Based on the canon scene. This also covers my version of the infamous Mello/Matt meet-up.


The man in front of Mello abruptly clutched his chest and stumbled to his knees. Mello sat bolt upright, instantly alert, heart pounding. Another man followed the first, then another. All over the room, his subordinates were falling. There was the distant boom and clatter of the barricaded warehouse entrances being forcibly breached. The building rumbled down to its foundations, and a rain of plaster dust fell from the ceiling.

Mello's mind kicked into high gear and he stilled, ignoring the riot of panic and terror that erupted in the room around him. This was it, without a doubt—a direct challenge from Kira. Locating his headquarters, killing off his men and invading at the same moment—Kira's ability to come up with such a complete plan was unmistakable. Mello rested one arm on his knee and snapped off a bite of chocolate. He was outwardly calm, but inwardly his mind was racing through all of the measures he had in place and weighing his options for action. He was annoyed that he had been caught off guard, and that shouldn't have happened. He had a damned supernatural gate guard! What was Sidoh doing? A quick glance at the laptop that displayed the surveillance feeds revealed him to be standing uselessly in front of the building. Mello swore inwardly. It had been a mistake to use him; there was no way to truly coerce a creature that couldn't be made to fear for its life.

The camera feeds also revealed men equipped with gas masks and machine guns flooding into the building. They were well prepared, he had to give them that. He wasn't ready for them yet. Truthfully, he had expected to have some warning before Kira made a move this bold. But no matter. He was Mello; adaptability was his strong point.

Cameras, they were the absolute first order of business he needed to deal with. The invading men all appeared to be equipped with them. Mello couldn't allow his face to be seen.

He jumped up. The corpse of the last man to fall was just giving its final twitches on the floor; his analysis had taken mere seconds. There were only two henchmen left standing, and they were shouting and tripping over their fallen comrades in panic and confusion. Their minds were too slow, they hadn't figured out what was happening yet. Mello had no intention of wasting time on them. He sprinted for the stairs.

Halfway across the room, he spotted the Death Note lying underneath Rod Ross's fallen form. He felt a pang at seeing his close associate dead, but suppressed it. There would be time for emotion later. Right now the important thing was to decide whether he dared spend the few seconds it would take to cross the room and pick the notebook up.

No. His pursuers were only seconds away. He could hear the heavy tramp of their booted feet approaching. It looked like his two remaining thugs would have one more chance to be useful after all. Mello shouted over his shoulder as he dashed up the stairs.

"Roy! Skinner! Don't let them get the notebook! Hurry up and bring it to the monitor room!" The men's heads snapped up at the sound of his voice, and they ceased their surprised bleating and started moving. Mello didn't even slow; there was no time. Another explosion rocked the building. Adrenaline arced through Mello like lightning, and he took the rest of the stairs three at a time.

The upstairs hallway was mercifully clear of enemy forces. Mello barreled through the entrance to the control room and flew into action, slamming the heavy double doors closed behind him and switching on all of the surveillance feeds. He pounded his fist on the desk in frustration as the bank of monitors came online. Seconds dragged by like they were years. Finally, the feed cleared, and he saw Skinner and Roy being wrestled to the ground and handcuffed.

Mello spun away from the monitor in disgust and spat a string of choice curses. Some use they were! Hardened gangsters? They reverted into helpless little animals when they were scared for their lives. The instant he wasn't there to give orders, they fell apart. Now Kira's forces would get the notebook! He kicked an empty beer bottle across the room angrily, and it shattered against the far wall.

Well, no matter. His choice had been the right one; if he had gone back for the Death Note himself, he might be the one being cuffed right now. He would just have to find a way to regain control of the notebook.

Mello turned back to the monitors and considered his options. He appeared to be the last one left, save Roy and Skinner moaning pathetically in the care of their guard. Mello could still escape, if he wanted. There was plenty of time. He could flee, regroup, and start over with a new plan to catch Kira. But his mind rebelled against that thought. It smacked of a Near tactic. He was Mello! He wouldn't turn tail and run during the middle of a confrontation. No. He had held the Death Note in his hands only moments ago, and he _would_ do so again before the night was over.

A manic grin spread across his face as he pulled the detonator out of its hiding place. Just holding it gave him a rush of power more potent than any drug. He glanced at the monitors, which showed the policemen slowly making their way to his position, and sneered. _You think this is over because you have the Death Note? Think again,_ he taunted them silently. _You have no idea what you're getting yourselves into. I'm going to face this fight head on, and I'm going to _win.

The time for scheming and planning had passed. Now it was time for action, pure and simple. Mello's pulse pounded with excitement. He was _good _at action. He whirled and started pacing around the room to relieve the energy that cracked through him and demanded that he act _now._

The enemy was too damned slow. It felt like eons before they finally approached his position. Mello jumped lightly atop a chair and made one final survey of the monitors. He felt a surge of triumph when he saw that the man in the lead had the Death Note in his hands. That was perfect! It was all falling into place, as he had known it would. God was watching out for him. Now all that was left to do was to follow this fight through to the finish line. He would win; it was already guaranteed. Mello held up the detonator and jabbed his finger into the first button, shaking so hard with adrenaline that his hand skittered off to the side as soon as it gave way.

Twin explosions rocked the building. Surprised shouts came from just outside the door, and the monitor showed the enemy troops scattering like ants after a stone had been dropped into their midst. Mello took a deep breath and savored moment before speaking in a dangerously calm tone.

"Don't move," he ordered. "I've already destroyed both entrances. You won't be able to get out of here easily, now." The people in the hallway were getting back to their feet and regrouping, and one by one, half a dozen rifle muzzles rose and were trained on the door. "This is your only warning. The next bomb will destroy the entire building. I can see your movements through the monitor, so do as I say." The words tasted delicious on his tongue, better than chocolate. They had no choice but to obey, they were all his hostages now. He was completely in control of the situation. These policemen were fools to challenge him on his own turf. They had no idea what he was capable of—but they would soon find out. He grinned confidently in the darkness and took another bite of chocolate. "First order. I want all of you to smash the cameras on your helmets."

There was some shuffling and exclamations of dismay from the men outside, but they did as they were told. Mello waited until each one had pulled off his camera and ground it beneath his boot before he continued. "Now throw all of your weapons over the railing." This seemed to generate more of an objection, but still they complied. Mello nodded in satisfaction. "One of you hold the notebook, and the rest of you back away." The man who was already clutching the Death Note nodded firmly at the other men, and they moved all the way to the railing. He was the leader, that much was obvious. Soon he was left alone, standing in front of the doors to the room. "Take off your mask, and come inside."

Mello killed the monitor lights so that his face wouldn't be visible when the doors opened. They creaked back a moment later, and a silhouette slipped inside. Mello was itching to know who it was. It had been quite awhile since he had last taught someone a lesson in what it truly meant to cross him. His right hand crept across the desktop to the button that would turn the screens back on, and hovered over it briefly as he reveled in the anticipation of seeing his rival's face for the first time. Then he let his finger drop.

Gray light filled the room. The man was—

Mello burst out laughing. He couldn't restrain his delight, it was just too good. "So, it's you again, Yagami! I should have killed you when I had the chance!" But he didn't mean that even for a moment. Facing a straight-laced, law-abiding man like Soichirou Yagami at a time like this played far too much to his advantage. The irony of it was priceless.

All of his adrenaline shakiness had vanished, leaving pure poise in its wake. He balanced on the counter in a crouch, ready to spring into action at any moment. "I never would have thought that you'd show up again looking for the notebook." He felt relaxed now, even as he anticipated the showdown that would occur at any moment. He tightened his fingers on the detonator and smiled at the feeling of barely-suppressed power as he waited for the man's response.

"M-i-h-a-e-l," grated the man slowly. "K-e-e-h-l. Your true name is Mihael Keehl."

Mello froze in shock. _My name!—how? This is bad!_ His thoughts raced through possibilities at lightening speed. _Did he get it from Snydar? Did Kira control Snydar?_ The implications of that were immense. _So they _did _join forces with Kira, just as I suspected!_

Yagami squared his shoulders, his gaze burning with righteous wrath. "Give up, Mello," he commanded. "Come quietly and I won't kill you." He flipped the Death Note open, brandishing a pen threateningly. His gaze was fixed on Mello, his eyes glinting with reflected computer monitor light. "If I write your name down, you'll die! So drop the switch and put your hands in the air."

Mello burst out laughing. His brief moment of worry vanished as if it had never been. This man was a weakling and a fool. He held the ultimate power in his hands, but he was too afraid to use it. He was too narrow-minded, too bound up in his ideals of justice and fairness and the law. Mello had absolutely nothing to fear from him. "You can't threaten me," he sneered, hefting the switch. "If you try to write my name down, I'll just press the button."

"Do it, then," replied Yagami evenly. Mello blinked, taken aback. "I'm prepared to lose my life. I'd happily give it up, if it means you die as well."

Mello stared at him incredulously. _You'd really go that far? Your life, the lives of your men…? _Yagami's eyes made it plain that he meant what he said. _You idiot! _Mello was willing to concede that the man was strong. Not many met his gaze without flinching. But he was still far out of his depth here. He had revealed his weakness by hesitating to kill him when he had the chance. Mello couldn't possibly lose to a man that was that faint of heart.

"Yagami," he began.

The policeman surged a step forward, his pen skittering across the page in front of him. "Don't move!" he shouted, his voice revealing traces of panic and anger. "I only have to write your last name down, now!"

Mello felt a flash of pity for the man. He was nothing more than Kira's pawn, and he was going to die because he was fighting for what he thought was right. And it was meaningless. Yagami was a laughable rival against him, Mello, a man who walked with God by his side. He had taken down men who had ten times Yagami's mettle without breaking a sweat. It didn't matter who had the Death Note or the most weapons or troops backing him. This was about who had the strength of will to do _whatever it took _to win. It was as simple as that. Mello had it, and Yagami didn't. Mello was going to win this confrontation, and Yagami was going to die.

"Sorry," he said. Yagami's eyes widened at the abrupt change in conversational tack. "I really had no intention of killing you." He closed his eyes for a moment and offered up a silent prayer for the innocent life he was about to take. But there was no other option. He had sworn to God that he would do whatever it took to beat Near; it was his mantra. _Whatever it takes._ There would be guilt later, but not now. When he opened his eyes again, the only thought in his mind was winning.

Mello felt calmer and more in control than he ever had been before. Certainty that he would prevail coursed through his veins like fire. "Yagami," he began again. His measured tone belied the fierce energy burning within him. This was his moment of victory, the moment in which he called his opponent's bluff. He spoke slowly, savoring it. "You've never killed anybody, have you?"

Yagami's eyes widened in consternation, and Mello saw the man's defeat written there. They both knew he didn't have what it took to win this. Mello's lips pulled back in a smirk.

Jose chose that moment to roll from his prone position on the floor and empty dozens of rounds of semiautomatic bullets at the man. Triumph surged through Mello. So Jose had only been faking death! God had provided a way. The gunfire shattered the quiet of the night and filled the room with bursting light. When it ceased, Yagami's expression was one of wide-eyed shock. He teetered unsteadily, then toppled to the floor like a felled tree.

Mello didn't waste an instant. "Jose! The notebook!" he exclaimed. He leapt off of his perch and dashed to Yagami's discarded gas mask. Backup troops were already pounding on the door, and he couldn't let them see his face.

Jose had dropped to his knees next to the fallen Yagami, and was now clutching futilely at the Death Note. "Shit!" he exclaimed. "This guy…" He gave another savage jerk. "Let go of the notebook!"

Mello straightened up as he finished adjusting the mask over his face. "Is he still alive?" he demanded. Jose shrugged and prepared to shoot him through the temple for good measure.

Then the door burst open. The man in the lead gasped in surprise as he took in the tableau of Jose perched over Yagami with a gun pointed at his head.

Then he opened fire. Jose had fallen before he could even lift his gun from Yagami's prone form.

More men rushed into the room, shouting at the sight of their fallen leader. They surrounded him, and in so doing put half a dozen guns between Mello and the Death Note. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get his hands on that now. He had already accepted that and moved on. This situation had transformed from a one-on-one confrontation between himself and Yagami to a one-versus-all battle against the entirety of Kira's forces. They were pressing for an all-out war, and Mello was more than happy to give it to them. It was all or nothing—and Mello would come out with all.

He stilled. He was perfectly focused, perfectly calm. He experienced every sensation exquisitely, like electricity arcing through him. The warmth of his breath within the mask, the cool air against his stomach, the prickling of his gloves against his hands. This was the moment of truth, when he laid everything on the line. It was time to show the world what he, Mello, was truly made of. Kira, L, Near, even God himself would bear witness to his true strength today. He allowed himself to drink in the way the world felt at this moment, reveling in its perfection, savoring the anticipation of what would come next.

"Freeze, Mello!" exclaimed one of the men. "Put your hands up!"

Mello allowed his head to tilt just enough to see them out of the corner of his eye. Fools. They were stupid to challenge him like this. He had _God's_ protection. What did they have? Body armor? It was laughable. They were sheep, even insects compared to him. He could feel God's presence within him and he knew, with unshakeable certainty, that in this moment, he was invincible. Power and fierce joy sang through his veins, doubling, quadrupling, expanding within him to infinity.

He lifted the detonator. He pressed the button.

The world exploded. Flame, heat, raw power surged around him, burning, tearing, letting loose without restraint. Mello was lost in an ecstasy of fire. For the first time in his life, the world around him burned with an intensity equal to what was inside of him.

Then it was over. Mello was left on all fours, panting, shaking with adrenaline and waiting for his vision to clear. He was on a pile of rubble, and debris was still falling around him. He slowly clambered to his feet. The policemen were groaning in pain and panic on the ground. Several bodies were on fire, and even more lay still. Mello was the only person standing. He grinned in manic triumph. It was a complete victory.

Then his mind raced forward to what was next. He needed to get out of here. He looked for his bike, but the whole parking lot was engulfed in a fireball. He had nothing but his own two feet, then. He whirled and sprinted away into the night.

The remains of the building were treacherous underfoot, but there were enough fires burning for him to see clearly. He ran, spurred on by the adrenaline that was still rushing through him. No one could doubt his resolve now. It had been a perfect moment. He left the building behind and flew into the back alleys of L.A. His energy started to flag, but then he recalled the violent energy of the building collapsing around him and surged forward anew.

Sirens from fire trucks and police cars finally cut through his awareness. Mello realized that he needed to move faster than he could on foot. He needed to get into hiding, across the city at the very least. His next move was obvious, there was really only one person to call. He fumbled for his cell phone. Miraculously, it had survived the blast. The leather cover was charred and tattered, but the phone itself was still functional. He called Matt.

His old friend answered on the fourth ring, his voice gritty from sleep. "This better be fucking important. It's 1am."

"Matty! Come pick me up." Mello was surprised to realize that he was so winded he could barely get the words out between gasps.

There was a pause. "Mello? That you?

Mello laughed. "Who else would it be?" he demanded.

"Who else would—but I haven't heard from you in—what the hell's going on?"

Mello laughed again. "I blew up my hideout, I'm probably the only survivor. I need a place to hide."

"Fuck, Mello! You did _what_?—no, never mind. Don't move—where are you?"

Mello took stock of his location. "Meet me at Dwight by those old railroad tracks."

There was a pause. Then Matt said, "Yeah, I know where that is."

"Good," said Mello crisply. "Be there in ten minutes." He flipped the phone shut. "Don't move"—yeah right, not when he felt like this. He had caught his breath, and he was still overflowing with energy. He ran toward the meeting place.

In the end, his energy ebbed faster than he imagined. Matt called his cell phone twice before he made it there, but he ignored them both. He arrived to find Matt leaning against the side of his car, smoking a cigarette and glaring at his cell phone. He turned when Mello's approach caught his attention.

And froze rigidly, the cigarette dropping out of his fingers in shock. "Mello! What the fuck did you _do?_"

Mello didn't understand his friend's stricken expression. "What?"

"How are you even still on your feet? Shit!" Matt whirled and opened the passenger's side car door. "Get in," he commanded.

Mello shrugged and did as he was told. The moment he sat down, he realized how tired he was. Bone weary, almost. And he was…wet. Mello glanced down at his left arm in confusion. Red. He blinked in horror. Was he _bleeding_?

The manic energy that had sustained him until this point abruptly drained away, and left something else in its place: burning agony along the whole left side of his body. Then a wave of exhaustion washed over him. Mello's eyelids fluttered shut and he knew no more.


End file.
